A Drop In The Ocean
by Miss-J'x
Summary: I read a quote recently that said "How can a person be filled with life, and then suddenly be empty? Where does it all go?" and that really hit home for me. She was so full of life, so full of dreams – where are they now? I took a long look around at all of her friends, and I know now where it all went. [[BeChloe]]
1. Last Chance

I was hopelessly, madly, wholeheartedly in love with my best friend. I had been from almost the very moment we had met; there was something about her that I hadn't encountered in a single person before I met her, or since I met her. A quality so disarming, so overwhelming, that sometimes I feel like I can't breathe in her presence. You all know the saying that opposites attract? Well, that must be true because she balances me so perfectly that we seem to be two halves of a whole. Yin and yang. Peanut butter and jelly. Movies and popcorn. Combinations that work so well that it seems almost criminal to have one without the other.

When I looked into my future I could see myself and Beca, a white picket fence, 2.5 children and maybe a dog. The children all looked like Beca – I was happy to spare my children from the 'ginger gene', plus the idea of having mini-Beca's was pretty appealing if I do say so myself. She would be a music producer and I would be a kindergarten teacher, both of us being successful in our own rights. I would teach our children to sing, and Beca would teach them how to _feel_ music. I'd be the good cop, and she'd be the bad cop. We'd be amazing parents, because we'd be in it together. We could do anything, fight anything, achieve anything as long as we were together. We'd be invincible.

The only flaw with my future plans?

Beca didn't know how I felt.

The other flaw?

I didn't know how she felt.

Sometimes we'd have moments where I'd be certain that there was _something_ there, a spark even. A glance that would last just a second too long to be platonic. The way she'd hug me but actively avoid even touching anyone else. The Bella movie nights where she'd save me a seat next to her, automatically moving to cuddle into me. All of the distinctly non-Beca qualities that she seemed to save for me. Either she felt it too, or she'd given up on fighting the affection.

We were running out of time with graduation looming. She was planning a move to LA, and I had no idea where I was headed. Graduating had been a last minute decision, after I'd realised that Barden really held nothing for me if Beca was leaving. I actually had to crack my Russian Lit text book after three years of avoiding the dreaded thing. I knew I needed to tell her, but how? If Beca felt trapped, her instinct was always to run. I didn't want to corner her and risk losing her for good. If I didn't tell her soon though, I'd lose my nerve and possibly her as well. LA was a big city, she'd disappear into it and I'd just be 'someone she used to know'. No. I refused to let that happen. She had meant too much to me for too long to just let her go. Not without a fight anyway.

When I woke up that morning, I knew it was the day to finally take the biggest risk of my college career. Hell, the biggest risk of my _life._ What the hell should I wear on such an important day? I didn't want to appear too casual, but dressing up would make it seem like a bigger deal to Beca than it needed to be. Perfect outfit? Check. Hair styled the way Beca seems to like it? Check. Make up done? Yes. Okay. Breathe. You've got this.

I headed down stairs with my heart beating a million miles per hour. I could actually hear it thudding. I felt slightly ill but that was to be expected. I was moments away from revealing to my best friend that I'd been in love with her from the first moment I glanced at the intense eyeliner, the intimidating piercings and the 'stay away from me' glare she'd perfected. Everything about her was perfected. She was perfect.

"Hey Chlo."

I swallowed down the lump in my throat as I saw Beca standing in the kitchen, mug of coffee in hand.

"Morning Becs, how'd you sleep?"

A shrug, a gulp of coffee, the clattering of a mug being placed in the sink. "Eh, okay I guess. I kinda got side tracked with a mix. Shit. Actually gotta run!"

Okay, this was not part of the plan.

"Wait, Becs, can we talk?"

Beca paused in the doorway, already about to dash out. "Sorry Chlo. I'm going to be late, is everything okay?"

I nodded, despite wanting to beg her to stay and hear me out.

"We can talk later, Chlo. I'll be home by 4."

Then she was gone.

"I-I love you." I whispered into the silence of the house.


	2. Capsize

To say I actually focused on anything that day would be a complete and utter lie. I got through my classes, barely. I checked the time all too frequently. I was consumed by nervous energy, and I actually thought I may implode if I didn't get this over with sooner rather than later.

4 o'clock came and went. 5 o'clock arrived before Beca did. I sighed in frustration; surely she knew how important it was that we talk today?!

I pulled my phone out, shooting off a text with my fingers jabbing at the keys agitatedly.

 _Beca where are you? You said you'd be home at 4 so we could talk? X_

(I couldn't leave out the usual kiss that I ended all our texts with)

Surprisingly I didn't receive a reply, and she hadn't been active on facebook for the last 2 hours (no, I wouldn't admit aloud the extent of my stalking).

None of the other Bella's seemed concerned with Beca's absence during dinner. Majority thought she'd got stuck at the station without a phone charger – it had happened on one too many occasions. I helped Aubrey clean the kitchen before disappearing to my room to study for my Russian Lit exam that I _had_ to pass if I wanted to graduate. I left my bedroom door ajar so I would hear when Beca came home but I wasn't in the mood to have _that_ conversation anymore. I was tired, wound up and slightly frustrated that she had essentially stood me up.

I heard a sharp knock at the door, assuming that Beca had misplaced her house keys once again. At least she'd come home bashing down the door at a reasonable time; not like the time she'd woken the whole household up at 4am because it was cold, she'd lost her keys and her phone had died, with little regard to the fact that Aubrey had called a mandatory rehearsal for only a couple of hours later. That was a fun rehearsal.

The sound of voices drifted up the stairs and I found myself straining to hear the unique lilt of Beca's voice, which I hadn't yet heard. Instead I heard two deeper voices that were unfamiliar. Huh. Maybe Stacey had company tonight – it wouldn't be the first or last time she had 'gentleman callers' as she so eloquently referred to them.

I tried to focus on the Russian Lit study that I had to catch up on, and quickly, in order to graduate this year. I'd intentionally failed it too many times. The voices continuing downstairs were distracting, and I could now hear the familiar tones of all the different Bella's. Was that Aubrey crying? What the hell! Suddenly I felt a ball of fear settle in my stomach and froze in my seat. Something bad must have happened. Aubrey may stress vomit, but she's not a crier.

A soft tap on my door pulled me from the dark places my mind had jumped to upon hearing what I assumed were Aubrey's sobs. I glanced up to see Stacey in my doorway with red rimmed eyes, her cheeks stained with a combination of mascara and tears.

"Stace, what's wrong?" I jumped to my feet, swallowing the lump that threatened to choke me.

Stacey shook her head, reaching for my hand. "Come downstairs, Chlo."

A million thoughts crossed my mind; not a single one of them pleasant. If I'd known then what I knew now, I may have refused to leave my room. I may have crawled into a ball, and never moved again. Unfortunately I wasn't to know.

We entered the living room where I saw all the Bella's, minus Beca, sitting around sobbing. I glanced around in shock, and realised that I was starting to tremble. I felt the familiar burn of tears prickling at the backs of my eyes, the lump in my throat preventing me from asking what was going on. I'd never seen such a sight before. The atmosphere in the room was suffocating. Then I noticed the source of the deeper voices. Two male police officers sat on one of the couches, one of them clutching a small notebook.

"Chloe Beale?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak through my fear.

Aubrey crossed the room in three strides, her arms encircling me as though protecting me from the blow that was about to hit me. I braced myself, my whole body tensing as I waited.

"We're here about Rebecca Mitchell. There was an accident around 3.45 this afternoon. We believe she was heading home from class, however she was struck by a vehicle as she crossed the lights against the pedestrian crossing. We believe that she may have been listening to music which would have made it difficult for her to hear the oncoming vehicle. She was pronounced dead at 4pm, after the paramedics did everything they could to save her. I'm terribly sorry for your loss."

Beca was never coming home.


	3. Just Hold On

The sound of a scream reverberated through to my very core, and it wasn't until after I slumped to the ground that I realised I was the one screaming. I screamed until my voice gave out, and even then my mouth was open in a silent scream.

My whole body was consumed by a grief so raw, so intense, that I could feel it through to the very centre of myself. I could barely suck in enough air to cry, my body seizing under the pressure of each wracking sob. I reached a hand up to my chest to check that it hadn't literally caved under the weight of the anguish.

I was vaguely aware of the others girls surrounding me, holding me, trying to comfort me, but I was unreachable. I was in a world of my own, a world full of darkness, of pain, of despair and regret. A world that I knew from that very moment was my home until I died too.

Aubrey clasped my face in her hands, forcing me to look at her. "Someone needs to go and identify her body. Dr Mitchell rang me, he asked if you want to go along with him? It's totally okay if you can't face it sweetie."

"I-I, I want to." I choked the words out, barely speaking above a hoarse whisper that was all that remained of my voice, my lungs struggling against the weight of my words.

An hour later we were being led into a waiting room for a moment to collect ourselves before identifying Beca. I was holding on to a shred of hope that they had it all wrong, that it wasn't her lying on the cold metal slab. That she was okay, and had lost her phone, and was simply running really late after class. That there would be a simple explanation for why she wasn't contactable, and why she hadn't come home. Maybe she had known what I was going to talk to her about, and she'd run scared. As much as the thought hurt me, the idea of seeing her lifeless body, cold and still was a much more intense, unbearable hurt.

The door opened, and I followed Dr Mitchell into the room wordlessly, the echoes of our shoes the only noise in the room. I shivered pulling the cardigan, which Aubrey had forced me into before we left, tighter around me. I was grateful for her in that moment, trembling slightly against the blasting air conditioner in the room. Aubrey and Amy had wanted to come with us, but I'd refused. There was no need for them to remember Beca as anything less than the sarcastic, witty and very much alive person that she had been only five incredibly short hours ago. The last time I'd seen her suddenly felt like a life time ago, and she'd been in too much of a rush to give me the mandatory hug that I usually claimed whenever we said goodbye. If only I had known that the goodbye was forever – I would never have let her leave.

My eyes focused on the table just a few feet from where I was standing, frozen, in the doorway. A stark white sheet was covering the person lying very still in the centre of the metal table. We had been warned that what we would see wasn't pleasant, that she had visible injuries, and that we'd only view her from the neck up.

I felt numb as I dragged my feet closer to the table, to stand beside Dr Mitchell. He nodded to the morgue assistant who was waiting for a confirmation that we were ready for the sheet to be pulled down.

I couldn't look. I could feel the bile rising as I heard the rustle of the sheet being moved.

The sharp intake of Dr Mitchell's breath as he glanced at the face of his deceased only child.

The weight of an arm being placed around my shoulders.

I glanced up at Dr Mitchell, seeing fresh tears trailing down his cheeks as he nodded. No. Don't nod. It's not Beca. It can't be my Beca. My best friend, the love of my life… my soul mate.

Be brave. Be brave for her.

I took a half step forward, gulped down a shaky breath, and looked down.

Oh my god.

Beca.

Beautiful even now.

Her face paler than I'd ever see it. A deep purple bruise on her cheek bone. A cut over her bottom lip. Her eyes closed, and she looked almost peaceful. Like she could be sleeping, and would soon wake. Only I knew that she would never open those stormy blue eyes ever again.

A tear fell from my eye, landing on her cheek and it looked like she was crying along with me.

Crying for all the time we wasted, all the time we lost. All the time that we should have had together from this moment, and for the rest of our lives. Gone. All gone. In an instant.

I traced my finger down her cheek, shocked at the way her skin was so, so cold. I pressed my lips to her forehead, to her cheek. There was no warmth left. There was nothing left.

Dr Mitchell cleared his throat. "She loved you, Chloe. I know you loved her too. I'm sorry that you didn't get your happily ever after."

All I remember was the floor rushing towards me as I passed out.

 **A/N: I know a lot of you are probably angry with me at the way this story is going, but please stick with it. Please review as well, the story is pretty much complete but I'd like to know that people are reading (and enjoying it). If you've got any ideas please let me know too, I'm happy to take them into consideration. :)**


	4. I Will Remember You

What do you wear to the funeral of your best friend? How do you bury someone so young, someone who had their whole life ahead of them? Someone who should be spending their forever with _you_?

I knew that what I wore didn't matter, but this was Beca's last celebration. Yes, I viewed her funeral as a celebration of her life. It would kill me to think of it as what it truly was, a last chance to say goodbye. Who was I kidding? This whole situation was going to kill me. I couldn't see my own future anymore, not without Beca being beside me.

I had been on autopilot for the last few days; eating occasionally when food was forced down my throat, sleeping often so that the pain would go away and crying constantly because the pain _never_ went away. The house felt different without Beca. The Bella's felt like we weren't 'us' anymore. It just showed how much Beca made us who we were, and what a difference the absence of one person could make to a group.

I hadn't yet been up to her room. I couldn't face the idea of it. Being surrounded by her belongings, her clothes, her music equipment… all the things that made Beca who she was were in that space, and I wasn't ready to submerge myself yet. I didn't know that I could handle walking in there and smelling her perfume, seeing her bed unmade as she left it every morning, seeing where she'd dropped her pyjamas on her last morning with us, whether she'd left her damp towel on the carpet… again. One day soon I would go in there, but not yet.

As far as I was aware, no one else had been in there either, apart from Aubrey who had collected some of Beca's thing from a list I had compiled with her father – things that she was to be dressed in, and buried alongside. Her room was a shrine to the tiny brunette we all loved so much.

It was time. Time to go and say goodbye to my Beca.

Beca's viewing was held in the two hours prior to the beginning of the service, before they sealed her casket, encasing her for the rest of eternity. It was a chance for anyone who needed closure to go and sit with her, talk to her, to see that she was gone to erase any doubt from creeping into their minds – who expected someone so young to die, who could believe it? It was a chance to tell her anything they hadn't gotten around to saying while she was still here, because we had all assumed that we'd have more time. We had all been banking on a forever.

In years to come when we had our Bella's reunions, long into our adulthood when we were all married with children, there would always be one seat empty. One person missing. Would the hurt ever ease? Would we ever be able to remember her and smile?

All of the Bella's had decided to attend the viewing, for their own closure. They didn't doubt that she was gone, they'd seen the state I was in when I arrived back from the morgue. They _knew_ that she was gone. There had to be something said for seeing it with your own eyes though. I had tried to talk some of the more sensitive girls into remembering her how she was when she was with us, but they wouldn't be dissuaded from it, and I had to respect that; though I knew the image of Beca in her casket would haunt their thoughts for a long time to come.

I had requested to be last to see Beca, of the Bella's, so I positioned myself in the little waiting area outside the tiny viewing room, digging my nails into my palms to ground myself. I knew there would be less shock value seeing her now, but it would be the very last time I'd ever get to see, and I wanted to memorise every little detail of her; even though I knew it wasn't going to be how she was.

The other girls went in to see Beca in pairs, so they had someone to share their grief with, someone to keep them afloat if they found themselves sinking. It broke my heart even more to see the utter devastation on their pale, shocked faces as they emerged from the room. There was absolutely nothing peaceful about the situation, despite all the classical music, dimmed lighting and lightly scented candles. Seeing someone so young lying in a casket was horrifying, make that person someone you love and it's a torture that can't be adequately described with words.

After seeing the struggle the others girls had etched across their faces, I almost decided against entering the small viewing room. Almost. I owed it to Beca to be strong; she would have said goodbye to me if the roles were reversed, if it was me lying cold in that room. I desperately wished it had been me instead, the idea of living in this hell forever was too much.

I perched on the stool beside the casket, and took a deep breath before looking inside. They'd covered her bruises and cuts with a lot more make up than I'd ever seen Beca wear while she was alive; she looked like she was sleeping, if I didn't look close enough at the slightly grey tone to her ashen skin. I wanted to reach out and shake her, begging her to wake up. I knew it was futile, I knew she wasn't going to wake up.

My hands trembled as I reached out to touch her, hoping to seek out some warmth but finding that her skin resembled marble, cool to the touch without any of the softness that I'd grown accustomed to.

I placed a letter beside her, a letter I had spent many hours struggling to write. I never got a chance to tell her how I felt, so the letter was my last chance to let her know that she was my everything.

"B-Beca, why? Why did this happen? My god, we shouldn't be here… you shouldn't be gone. We had our whole lives ahead of us, we should've had forever. I wasted so much time being scared to tell you how much I love you. I miss you. I miss you so much. I'll never stop missing you. I promise I'll never forget you. You're my other half. Without you… without you, I'm not even me anymore. I would give anything to have you back. I don't know how to keep living without you, Becs. I don't know how I'll ever survive. This is a nightmare that I know I won't wake up from. I just, I need you here more than anything else."

I leaned down to kiss her cheek one last time, my lips lingering for a moment.

"Goodbye sweetie. I love you so much. I'll never stop loving you."

 **A/N - please review :)**


	5. My Skies Are Turning Grey

For someone who claimed to have hardly any friends outside the Bella's, the funeral home was packed. I sat shoulder to shoulder with Aubrey to my left and Stacey to my right, in the second row behind Beca's parents and family. Dr Mitchell had invited me to sit with them, but I'd declined knowing that I'd need to draw my strength from my friends; literally gripping their hands in my own, trying to buoy myself somehow so that I didn't drown in the grief I was feeling.

Just metres ahead lay the glossy pine coffin, covered in flowers of all different shades of blue and purple. A photo of Beca smiling widely, in a rare moment of unrestrained happiness, stood in a frame. A photo that I had taken during one of our movie nights only a few days earlier. The tears welled up again as I remembered how carefree she had been in that moment, and how we'd never have another movie night. A smaller frame contained a picture of a four-year old Beca, eating an ice cream cone almost as big as she was. More photos of Beca in various stages of life; a chubby baby, a toddler with a cheeky smile, elementary school photos. Photos from Bella's rehearsals, coffee dates, sleepovers, parties and performances that the Bella's had contributed to the service. Her beloved headphones and a small stack of her favourite CD's took pride of place on top of her coffin, to be placed inside with her before the burial. The music playing was one of her mixes. Everything about it screamed Beca, but it felt so, so wrong that we were here. That she was lying in that coffin. That she was gone, and I'd never, ever see her again.

I watched Beca's father give her eulogy, his voice cracking as he tried to remain strong. His last chance to make Beca proud of him. Little did he know that she would have been so, so proud of him. I smiled through my tears at the stories of Beca as a child, and a rebellious teenager. Weeping as he described the future that was torn so devastatingly from her before she ever had a chance to reach for her dreams. The regret he felt in not allowing her to go to L.A, because maybe if he hadn't forced Barden on her, she'd still be here.

Then it was my turn.

Dr Mitchell had asked me to speak as I'd been the closest to Beca during her last few years on this earth.

Aubrey squeezed my hand tight as I stood to make my way to the altar, passing the casket with an urge to climb inside and be with Beca forever. But she wasn't really in there. She was gone, just her body remained.

"My name is Chloe, and Beca was my best friend. We met when she was a freshman, at the activities fair. Aubrey and I tried to convince her to join our acapella group, but in true Beca style, she told us how amazingly lame it was. She also convinced me that she didn't sing. Our first proper encounter was after I heard her singing in the shower, and I may have barged in to confront her about her voice, and how she'd lied about not being able to sing. I'm actually surprised that she didn't have me arrested or something. She was the kind of person who hid behind this tough exterior, you know, the piercings and the eyeliner, the dark clothing… but once you got past that, she was… she was the most amazing person I have ever met. She was kind, sweet and caring. She was sarcastic, and hilarious, incredibly quick witted and loved messing with people… especially Aubrey. She was fiercely loyal and protective of the people she cared about. Beca was incredibly talented with her mixing too, she was the reason we won the ICCA's three years running. She made us better. She made us all better people for having known her.

I read a quote recently that said "How can a person be filled with life, and then suddenly be empty? Where does it all go?" and that really hit home for me. Beca was so full of life, so full of dreams – where are they now? I took a long look around at all of her friends, and I know now where it all went. Her determination to succeed will live on through Aubrey. The awkward way she stumbled through situations she wasn't confident in will continue in Emily. Her dirty mind and inappropriate jokes will live on in Stacey. Her confidence about who she was a person is in Cynthia Rose. Her sense of humour and sarcasm will stay with us through Amy. The way she blurted out whatever she was thinking without actually thinking about it will continue in Lily. The fiercely protective way she cared about the people she let in will continue in Jessica. The frustrating way she could glide through her course without going to class or even really opening a book will continue to drive us all crazy through Ashley. The very essence of Beca's heart and soul will live on in me. I can look around at each of the Bella's and see her and feel her presence. I won't ever forget her, or let anyone else forget her. She'll live on in each and every single one of the people she loved, and who loved her.

Beca, you made me fall for you. I loved you from the very first moment I laid eyes on you, only you were gone before I got to tell you. We never got our happily ever after, our fairy tale ending. But you are the only person for me. I will treasure every moment that I ever got to spend with you. I only wish we'd had more time. I love you, Becs."

I hadn't realised how much I was crying until I stopped speaking, tears pouring down my cheeks. I took a few steps towards her casket, placing a light kiss on it, the polished pine the only barrier between my lips and hers.

Seeking Aubrey's eyes out, I nodded to her – a signal she had been waiting for as my speech was longer than I'd intended it to be.

She stood gracefully and led the Bella's and the Treble's to where I was standing for our tribute to Beca. A mash up we had created to honour her in a way she we knew she would love, if she was looking down at the service. Of course it wasn't as flawless as a mix that Beca herself had created, but we had done the best we could to create something special for her.

Our voices quavering through our tears, we sang a combination of 'See you again, 'Somewhere over the Rainbow' and 'If I Die Young'. Songs that were beautiful in their own right, but put together were able to create a song that did a lot to express just how deep our grief ran as we sang to our beautiful friend for the last time.

As I took my seat for the remainder of the service, I felt two sets of arms encircle me tightly. They were the only thing holding me together, when all I wanted to do was fall apart.

Suddenly it was over, and Beca's casket was carried past us. Aubrey and Stacey helped me to my feet, and I followed them out so we could head towards the cemetery for what would be the worst moment of my life.

 **A/N - as always, please review. It will mean faster updates! There's probably about 4-5 chapters left, and the story is all ready to be posted.**


	6. I'm Barely Breathing

The sun shining in the cloudless sky was a stark contrast to my mood. I wanted overcast, I wanted rain, I wanted the day to be as miserable as I felt. How could I bury Beca on a day that seemed so cheerful?

We formed a guard of honour as Beca's casket was carried from the hearse, to be placed above the only plot of earth she would ever own. Beca would never own a house; instead she owned a small plot of dirt that would serve as her eternal home.

I shivered, despite the warm breeze, layered in a thick cardigan. The air felt too cold, being outside carried too many reminders of the times we had cut class to sunbake and talk about the meaningless things that had happened during our days. I realised how much I didn't know about Beca, how much I would never find out. Not for lack of trying, but for a lack of time. Beca had so many layers to her personality, and I'd slowly but surely been peeling them back. One by one. I'd never met a person with such depth. I wondered how much I'd left untouched, I knew I'd barely scraped the surface, even in all the years we'd had together. I could've had forever, and still left her unexposed.

I noticed that everyone was moving to stand around the grave, and I followed slowly. I wasn't sure that this was something I would be able to endure. Watching her slowly be lowered into the ground, where she'd be staying forever, was something I didn't think I could deal with. Hearing that she'd died was hard, seeing her body only hours after her death was traumatising and heartbreaking, but burying her was a whole other situation. I was only 24, this wasn't something I should have to deal with. Maybe at 80, and then only maybe, I could justify burying the person I was in love with, after spending a happy, long, fulfilled life with them. Here I was saying goodbye before I'd had a chance to really love her the way my heart had been begging me to for years. Was this my punishment for being afraid to be honest, for holding back? I shuddered as I heard the opening strains of 'Amazing Grace' start playing softly as a few final words were spoken.

Suddenly it was time.

I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach, run over with a truck. I could barely stand through the physical pain I was feeling. It was all too real, and I realised that I'd been hoping that somehow, someway or another, she'd come back to me. That I'd wake up from this nightmare. But, seeing the casket lowered had made it all real. She was gone. She wasn't coming back. Somehow I was going to have to live a life that didn't include her, when so much of my life had revolved around her.

My knees buckled just at the same moment that Amy grabbed me to stop me from falling. "Just hold on, red. We'll get through this, we have to."

Hold on? How was I supposed to? I didn't realise it was possible for a person to survive such extreme, excruciating pain. I hadn't realised how emotional pain, like grief, could cause such intense physical pain. Why hadn't my parents let me have a pet growing up? Maybe then I would have had some idea about how to cope with the cycle of life and death. Instead here I was, at just 24, burying the person who meant the most to me in the entire world, without any previous experience of death to help me.

I heard the small thud as the casket hit the dirt, six feet between Beca and me. I watched as one by one, mourners stepped to the edge to sprinkle a small handful of dirt over the grave. I stepped back, almost without thinking, as the cluster of people almost swept me to the mound of dirt. No. No. I would not be part of this sick ritual. I would not throw dirt over the small box containing my everything. I wouldn't condone this. I wasn't ready for her to be gone.

An arm wrapped securely around my waist, "Chlo, come on. It's time to say goodbye."

"I can't Bree. I can't." I felt, more than heard, the wail come from deep within me as I fell to my knees. I'd been holding in so much, I couldn't anymore. I couldn't be strong, I didn't want to be brave. I wanted my best friend here beside me. I wanted to be sitting in her room, watching B grade movies and eating ice cream straight from the tub. I wanted to be bickering over who ate whose cereal. I wanted to be making dinner alongside her, arguing over the acceptable amount of salt and pepper to add. I wanted to lie in bed beside her, waiting for her to fall asleep so I could curl myself into her side. Hell, I'd settle for one of our all-out arguments if it meant I could see her again.

I desperately missed the stormy blue colour of her eyes, and the way they darkened with anger. I hadn't seen her eyes in days. I would never see them again, except through photos which wasn't the same. Photos couldn't capture the twinkle in them when she said something sarcastic or inappropriate; they couldn't capture the depth in them when she was deep in thought. No photo of Beca would ever do justice to the beautiful person she was.

They let me cry. They left me kneeling in the dirt in my best dress; sobbing for Beca, sobbing for the future she was robbed of, and sobbing for myself because my future was as good as gone too.

I cried until I didn't have any tears left, and then I screamed. Screamed until my voice was hoarse, and the pain in my throat proved that I was still here. That I was still alive despite the pain in my chest convincing me that I might as well be dead too.

They helped me up, helped me dust myself off. I watched as my fellow sisters each took a turn sprinkling dirt, but I turned my head to the side when they beckoned me over. I was wrung out, exhausted. I'd had my break down. But I was still not participating. It was just one thing I couldn't do. It felt disrespectful.

I took one final look down into the grave before it was filled in. Instantly regretting my decision to willingly look into one of the saddest, most sorrowful sights I would ever see, the pine and the flowers almost completely covered in a fine layer of dirt.

I followed the others over to where a reception was being held in Beca's honour; photos of her everywhere, her favourite foods and drinks on display. All the people she loved gathering for a celebration of her life. Aubrey forced a glass of champagne in my hand just in time for a toast. Why was I here? I should have stayed with Beca. I waited until no one was paying attention to me and retreated from the room, heading straight back to Beca's grave. A magnetic pull drawing me back to her. A pull that I would feel for the rest of my life, regardless of where in the world I was.

Immediately I noticed that in my absence, the hole had been filled in. I knelt in the freshly dug dirt to be as close to Beca as possible. Six feet of earth, and all of eternity, separating me from my best friend.

I don't know how long I sat there for, but the sky had darkened considerably since I first sat down. Dark clouds rolled overhead and I felt a few stray raindrops splash on my face as I gazed upwards. "Where are you Becs?" I hoped against hoped that there was a heaven, and that she was happy wherever she was.

Thunder crashed and the sky opened up, heavy drops of rain saturating me to the skin in seconds. At least this way I wasn't sure if the moisture on my face was from tears or rain. I was vaguely aware of freezing mud seeping through my dress where I sat in the dirt, but I didn't care. I wasn't going to leave her. I knew Beca was afraid of the dark, which hardly anyone else was aware of. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here Becs."

In any other situation, sitting in a cemetery in the dark would be frightening for me. I'm not brave; I don't like horror movies, I don't like the dark particularly. I had to be strong for Beca. She must be so afraid right now, in the pitch black of her coffin. "It's okay, it's okay." I'm not sure which one of us I was trying to comfort as I huddled further into my sopping cardigan, the wind sending a chill through the air.

Every noise startled me, but not for one second did I consider leaving. She would never feel afraid or alone, I was going to protect her even if it jeopardised my own safety. Beca was all that mattered.

I must have dozed off, because I woke to the sound of voices calling my name, torches flashing around the surrounding area. "CHLOE!"

I heard someone running towards me. "I FOUND HER!"

It was Stacie.

"Oh honey, you're soaked. It's okay, I've got you." She placed a jacket around my shoulders, attempting to warm me but I was too numb to notice.

More footsteps, more people arriving at my side.

"Shh, it's okay Chlo. I'm here." Aubrey pulled me off the ground and into her arms, stroking a hand through my dripping hair sending icy droplets down my back.

They tried to lead me away. "NO! I'm not leaving her, let me go!" I thrashed out at Aubrey until she released me but another set of arms was too quick to encircle me.

"She's not here honey, she's gone. She's gone, and you need to let us take you home."

"Please Chlo, you're freezing, you'll get sick."

"Sweetheart, she wouldn't want you to do this. You know she'd be telling you to get your cute butt home and into some dry clothes."

I sniffled into a shoulder as I wept quietly. "She's scared of the dark, I don't want her to be scared." I knew it sounded weak. I knew I sounded as exhausted as I felt. I could barely hold myself up, leaning heavily into Jessica.

"Beca's not here. Her body is here. That's all it is. Her soul is somewhere happy babe."

"Beca is right here honey and she'll always be there." Stacie put a hand over my heart.

Finally I must have heard reason, or couldn't find the energy to argue any further, because I allowed them to herd me back to a car. Stacie and Jessica carrying most of my weight as I dragged my feet. Aubrey walked closely behind in case I tried to bolt back to Beca's grave. The thought had crossed my mind, but I didn't have the strength. I don't even remember getting home. I just remembered the agonising exhaustion, the regret and the guilt of leaving Beca when I promised her I wouldn't.

 **A/N - this was hard to write. I changed it about six times. Not sure if I'm happy with the outcome. Please review. :)**


	7. Broken

Was this how the rest of my life would be? The funeral was over, Beca was gone – that chapter was officially closed, and now life was supposed to just go on? I felt lost; my week before had been filled with different things to do – the funeral to help organise, my speech to write, photos to print. Now there was nothing to fill my days and I realised the magnitude of my loss without a distraction.

I didn't want to do anything. I wanted to sit and be miserable, but Aubrey had said I'd spent enough time moping. "Chlo, it's time to get on with it. Beca would want you to be happy!"

Was it so easy for them? I thought they had loved her too.

I forced myself to shower. I forced myself to choke down a breakfast that consisted of more than just coffee, the way Beca had liked hers. I forced myself to dress in something that wasn't sweat pants and an oversized hoodie. I forced myself to live, but was this really living? Or was I just existing?

The rest of the Bella's had returned to classes, and work, and for the first time in a week I was truly alone. There wasn't anyone fussing over me, there wasn't a household of people scurrying around. Just complete and utter silence. Just me and my thoughts.

I took a good look around the living room, taking my time to glance at the couch that had seen us through movie nights, parties and sleepovers. The dining room table that we'd eaten breakfast, lunch and dinner at, the table we'd covered with text books and notes the night before exams. The mantel covered in pictures of the Bella's over the past few years – Beca featuring in the background of most of them, a scowl present on her face as she was forced to take yet another picture. The memories were so _real_ , I could almost see her sitting on the couch or at the dining room table, telling me off for 'staring', or 'distracting her'. God, I missed her voice.

Wait, there was a way I could hear it again. I pulled my phone out of my pocket so fast I fumbled and almost dropped it to the floor. I opened my recent call list, and pressed 'Beca Mitchell'. I knew it wouldn't ring, it had been smashed beyond repair when she'd died. Her voicemail picked up immediately; _'Hi, you've called Beca. Leave a message. Or just be super cool and text me because chances are I won't listen to this message!'_

The tears welled up and spilled down my cheeks instantly. Her voice. I could _hear_ her. I must have redialled a hundred times, just to listen to her. So many times I'd berated her for that sarcastic voicemail recording, but now I was so, so grateful for it. So thankful that the few words in the recording captured Beca in just the way she was in her life; sarcasm, wit and all.

I gathered the strength to do what I hadn't done in a week. I went upstairs to her bedroom.

The door was firmly closed, containing the very essence of Beca within four walls. I took a deep breath as I eased the door slowly open, not wanting any of her essence to escape. I wanted to savour this. The emotions hit me as I saw her rumpled pyjamas sitting on the end of her unmade bed. Her laptop open on her desk, study notes covering the remainder of the surface. A jacket thrown over the back of a chair. A pair of shoes by the door. Oh, Beca. You're still right here. I could _smell_ her. I closed my eyes and imagined her lying on her bed listening to music, a position she'd be in thousands of times. I slowly made my way around her room, memorising every tiny detail. I climbed into her bed, covering myself with her comforter and buried my face in her pillow, soaking up the smell of her shampoo.

I couldn't do this anymore. I didn't want to be here. How could I live the next 60 years of my life like this? I couldn't imagine ever getting over this; it was the kind of grief that would last a life time. I didn't want to be that 40 year old, drinking alone in a bar, crying over someone who had been dead for nearly 20 years.

I knew what I had to do, and I had to make sure it happened before the girls came home. I knew they'd try and stop me. Aubrey would be especially disappointed that I hadn't taken her pep talk seriously; but really how could I be expected to go back to classes like nothing had happened? I couldn't remember the last time I'd smiled genuinely. I felt like a shell of myself; like Beca had taken all the best parts of me with her already. She'd taken half my heart; I would never be whole again.

I went down to the bathroom, gathering all the pain killers I could find. I raided Aubrey's , Ashley's and Lily's rooms respectively, then returned to my own where I dug through a drawer for the heavy duty meds the doctor gave me when I had my wisdom teeth removed.

I wasn't sure how many tablets I would need as I spilled the bottles out on to my desk, popping individual tablets from their foil packets. Was this going to be enough?

I also pulled out an almost full bottle of vodka from my stash.

I'd never contemplated suicide before, ever. I was probably the least likely person to do this. I made a point of looking for the silver lining in every single situation. There just wasn't one now. I wasn't depressed. I wasn't scared, I wasn't even uncertain. I knew that this would be the only way I could be with Beca, and that was oddly reassuring. I was at peace with my decision. I just hoped the other girls would understand, and that they would remember how much I loved each and every one of them.

How much time did I have? I estimated another couple of hours, at least. I knew what hurt the most with Beca was the lack of closure; I didn't think I could put any of the girls through that, and there was my family to think of too. I pulled out some paper and envelopes', writing a letter to each one of the Bella's; thanking them for everything they'd ever done for me, explaining my reasoning, apologising for not saying goodbye. I struggled through a letter to my parents, begging them to understand and telling them I loved them. My tears smudged the ink as I wrote a name on the front of each envelope and sealed it with a kiss. I would miss them, every single one of them.

The first few tablets, chased with vodka, were the hardest. Then I got into a rhythm. Chew, swallow. Chew, swallow. My body was starting to feel heavy; my eyes were struggling to stay open. My vision was blurring and I couldn't tell if I was drunk or tired. I couldn't hold my head up anymore.

I could see Beca. A smirk on her face, her eyes twinkling as she mouthed words that I couldn't hear. "I'm coming, Beca."

And everything went black.

 **A/N; this isn't the end of the story just yet. Please review.**


	8. It Was Only Just A

I felt myself being pushed and pulled. I had no idea what was happening. I was so scared now that I had passed the point of no return. Beca was just out of reach; I could hear her soft voice calling me, see her arms opening for me. I just needed to feel her hold me again. She was so close, yet so far. I could make out the blurry outline of her figure, but my eyes wouldn't properly bring her into focus. I could smell the vanilla of her perfume, the strawberry flavoured gum she was forever chewing and her fruity shampoo. She was so _real._ If only I could get to her.

"Chloe!"

My eyes opened, and I blinked rapidly to get my bearings.

Huh.

I finally gained focus of my surroundings. I was in my bedroom. My bedroom in the Bella's house. I sat up slowly, my head pounding, tears blurring my vision. Was I doomed to live out eternity in the Bella's house?! What was going on? Was I really dead? Where were the girls? Where was Beca?

"Dude, are you okay?"

I spun around so fast I lost my footing and stumbled. "Beca?"

She was right there. Right in front of me. I could reach her.

I burst into fresh tears as I lunged for her, crushing her tiny frame to my body, sobbing loudly into her hair as I struggled to hold her in case she vanished from my arms, my hands desperately clutching the back of her shirt.

"Dude, what the fuck? Calm down. What's wrong?" I felt a few awkward pats on my back as Beca attempted to soothe me, her voice holding all the confusion I was feeling. She had never been great with tears; usually finding a pathetic excuse to disappear the second someone started crying.

Unless it was me. Then I'd be told to 'Lock it up, Beale, don't mess up your pretty face.'

I gasped in a shuddering breath, "Am I dead too?"

Beca laughed; a light, breathy noise I hadn't realised how much I'd missed. "Dead? What? You had a dream, Chlo. A pretty fucking messed up dream too, by the sounds of things. Why are you crying?"

"A dream?"

Beca pushed on my chest to step back a bit and look at me properly, "Yeah? You wanted to talk, so I came to find you, and you were thrashing around in your sleep crying."

"I was dreaming?" I couldn't fathom the fact that Beca was here. Wasn't she dead? Or was I really dead, and after world Beca was being a dick about it? Because after world Beca would totally be a dick about it.

Beca looked at me with genuine concern plastered on her face. "What was the dream about? Must've been pretty intense to cause this kind of reaction." She laughed nervously, tugging on a strand of her hair, as though she didn't really want the answer.

I finally released Beca, perching on the edge of my bed, head in hands. My brain was working over time trying to sort out what was real and what was part of my dream.

"Chloe?"

I shook my head, unable to speak for a few moments as I felt my throat tightening around the tears that were threatening to spill out again. I felt the bed dip beside me as Beca sat down, placing an arm around me tightly. I could feel the warmth of her lips press lightly against my shoulder as she moved closer to me.

"It's okay, Chlo. You're okay."

"You died, Beca. You died, and my god, I can't. I don't know. You were just _gone_ , and I didn't know what to do without you so I killed myself so we could be together." My body shook as the sobs overcame me again.

Beca pulled me down against her chest, gently rocking me back and forth, as I cried a river of tears into the crook of her neck, dampening the collar of her favourite shirt. "Sounds like a really shitty version of Romeo and Juliet. I'm kidding Chlo. Shhh. It's okay."

"Are you really here?" I looked up at her through my watery eyes.

She nodded, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Right here, Chlo."

"It was so awful. You died coming home from work, and I never got to tell you how I really feel about you. And I had to identify your body, and speak at your funeral. I watched you get buried. It was all so, so _real._ " I hiccupped as the sobs finally started dying down, I was rapidly gaining comfort and reassurance from Beca's embrace.

I felt her freeze against me. "How you really feel? What did you want to talk about?"

Ah, shit.

"Chloe?"

I sighed softly, sitting up. Now or never. I wasn't going to waste another opportunity, not now that I knew how precious life was with Beca here.

"I-I guess that I wanted to talk about my feelings."

Beca nodded for me to continue, a small smirk on her face.

"I think that I maybe like you in a more than friends way." I stuttered, speaking so fast I wasn't sure she'd understand me.

"You think that maybe you do?" Beca raised an eyebrow at me, looking amused.

I sighed again. She wasn't going to make this easy.

"I know that I do. I'm sorry if you don't feel like that, or if me feeling like that makes you uncomfortable. I am more than happy to pretend this conversation neve-"

I was cut off by Beca gently pressing her lips to mine. A soft kiss that expressed more than words could ever have done.

"Took your damn time, Beale. Maybe I should die more often."

 **A/N: There it is. THE END.**

 **Thank you to everyone who reviewed this story, especially the people who were here from the very start. Let me know what you think of the ending!**

 **I'm planning another BeChloe story - if anyone has any prompts please PM me. I may write a sequel to this story. :)**


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